The Broken Horde
by Escaper
Summary: What happened to Tsarmina's horde of vermin after the Battle of Kotir? This is the story of the remnants of the Thousand Eye Army, as told by Whegg the rat.
1. Chapter 1: Alone on the Plains

" _The leaderless foxes, weasels, stoats, ferrets and rats ran. They ran as they had never run before, stumbling and pushing to get out in front. Not a word was spoken amongst them. All that could be heard was the harsh panting of breath as they sped away into the far sunlit distance, each one feverishly hoping that, regardless of the others, he would be out of sight by sunset, away from Mossflower and its grim horde of dangerous woodlanders._ "

— _Mossflower_ , Chapter 49

* * *

Chapter 1: Alone on the Plains

Whegg the rat sat beside a hastily made campfire, still catching his breath from his hurried flight. Eight other fires around him cast a muted glow into the night sky of Mossflower's Western Plains. He and the other beasts encamped on this low hill represented the last of Lady Tsarmina Greeneyes' Thousand Eye Army. Their fortress of Kotir destroyed after a titanic battle, the woodland creatures on the other side had driven the survivors from the forest just a few hours before. Whegg recalled perfectly well the words of two of the hare guards who had sent them off:

"So, you've got until sunset to vanish into the distance, savvy?"

The other had added,

"Actually, if we can sight you then, there's going to be another jolly old battle."

He supposed that the other vermin resting around him remembered well enough too, since no one, as far as he could see, had dropped behind and been subsequently picked off during the mad dash away from the treeline. Whegg did not know exactly how far they had run, but he reckoned that they had crested the hill on the horizon from the woodlanders' point of view and then gone ten thousand pawlengths besides. Far enough so that they were far out of site from those creatures.

He had begun to breathe regularly and spared a few glances at the huddled shapes around him. There seemed to be many, but even a rat as totally unskilled in numbers as Whegg could tell that the army's count was pathetically small compared to what it had been before. It seemed to him that perhaps one in five, maybe fewer, had survived both the ferocious battle and the flood that welled up from beneath the ground and swallowed up Kotir forever.

—

Although Whegg could not possibly have known this, his offhand guesstimate was relatively correct. While Lord Verdauga's records were spotty at best, they all pointed to his Army of a Thousand Eyes having just about that— and five hundred beasts to hold them in their heads, give or take a few empty sockets. And if one were to have then counted up the vermin corpses littered around the battlefield or saturated with river water under the fallen stones of Kotir, they would have concluded that slightly under a hundred of the horde still lived. Chalk it up to a soldier's intuition.

—

As they had reached a safe distance, or so it seemed, gradually hisses of conversation began to spark up between the vermin grouped at the campfires. Uncharacteristically, Whegg did not feel like joining in. He usually fancied himself as a talkative rat, especially when compared with his fellow hordebeasts (some of whom didn't require more than grunting or angrily pointing to get by day by day). He also had an unusual streak of curiosity within his soul —sadly, not indicative of any touch of inventiveness or ingenuity also present— that often got him into trouble.

...Hellgates, how he'd thought that badger would rend him limb from limb when he'd spoken up back in the forest! Well, they all wanted to know, didn't they? What would happen to them? If it had been the other way around, with vermin the victors, it would have been instant death for the ringleaders and painful slavery for the rest. Or maybe Tsarmina would have lopped all their heads off anyway. She hadn't been the same at the end, not really. Whegg had seen that on the wall, when he, Slinkback and Foulwhisker attempted their ill-fated escape.

He shook open the pack each prisoner had been given. Two days of grub and water, some hare had said. Inside he saw several well-made biscuits, each smelling slightly of honey, a piece of bread, a turnip, some assorted berries and a few flasks of water. Better vittles, Whegg knew, than anything ever to be served up by the cooks of Kotir. Though he would have preferred a mug of grog to any other drink. How were they supposed to get more food when the two days were up, anyhow? He hoped that some of the Thousand Eye Army's foragers were still kicking, for he himself had always been a wall guard and those never went out with the hunting parties. Breakfast, lunch and supper rations in the mess hall had been his life. Well, Whegg supposed, that would have to change in the coming seasons. A lot would.

End of Chapter 1.


	2. Chapter 2: A Horde Divided

Chapter 2: A Horde Divided

* * *

Whegg began to stir as the first reaches of sunlight crept under his closed eyelids and made it impossible for him to sleep any longer. As if it were one, the horde around him had started to rise as well. He pushed himself up on two paws, stumbled, and nearly fell as he tried to lean on a spear that wasn't there. Checking his pack, he found to his relief that nobeast had stolen any of the tasty, though meager, provisions. He had been too exhausted from their escape last night to take in anything except some of the water, which meant that he still had roughly two days' worth of food. Whegg wondered how long it would be before those who had been less moderate with their rations might look towards others' to fill their bellies…

Looking around him, Whegg saw through bleary vision that nobeast, as far as he could tell, was armed or armored. Of course –why would the woodlanders have left them with any weapons to return with? All he and his fellow soldiers had been left with were, aside from their vittle-sacks, any jerkins, caps or shoes they had worn under their armor. He clutched his own leather coif to his head instinctively, reassuring himself that it hadn't fallen off during yesterday's mad dash. The only thing marking their lot out as soldiers (he had to stop himself from adding _former_ ) were the pairs of dusty but well-made boots each beast was currently in the process of pulling on.

Now that more or less every member of the late Army of the Thousand Eyes was awake and aware, the peaceful silence of nighttime slumber had been replaced with a quiet that was strained and made uneasy by the nervous thoughts of each member assessing the situation all had found themselves in. Making a quick count of their numbers, Whegg guessed that while a couple had slipped off alone into the night, almost every single vermin had chosen safety in numbers over the unknown terrain that stretched on to their north, south and west. Currently, however, this same inclination towards avoiding risk had seemingly left each beast paralyzed with indecision, as the camp remained nearly motionless and none stepped forth to speak.

Whegg realized he had never gone a minute in his life as a soldier without somebeast above him to issue orders and point his spear towards something to guard, kill or sack. In the army, he had never found any need or desire that could be filled by attempting to climb the often-treacherous chain of command, so, like many of his mates, he had stayed at the level of ranker, senior only to the newly enlisted. Whegg was pretty sure that all of Tsarmina's captains had been killed or gone missing during the Battle of Kotir, as the hares had gone through the vermin afterwards looking for any of them. Technically, she had made Brogg the only Captain anyway before the final battle, as he was the only one that crazy wildcat thought she could trust. His heart beating faster, Whegg looked to see who then, if anyone, would lead.

* * *

In reality, Whegg need not have worried. Such was simply the way with vermin, whose group dynamics relied intensely on a few strong leaders. When those leaders died, and there was no successor immediately evident, the next-cleverest, strongest or bravest would eventually step up by instinct and necessity. Leadership, in the end, was not lacking in any vermin horde of sufficient size. There was, of course, no guarantee whatsoever that this process would be free of violence, backstabbing and general cruelty.

* * *

"Awright, you lot, listen up!"

A huge rat stood up among the slouching, crouching and sitting vermin. Whegg knew he must be one of Bane the fox's former mercenaries, as there were only a few rats in the original Thousand Eye Army, including Whegg himself. The rat's enormous tail moved to accentuate each point as he spoke:

"So far as I ken tell, there's nobeast left in this miserable pack who's got the guts t' make you stop moping around and do something! I ain't fixin' t'starve to death, in two days or ever, so if any of you feel the same way, you ought to follow me."

The rat looked pointedly around the fires, waiting for anyone to speak against him. As he leaned forward, a ferret suddenly stood up. Whegg recognized him as Raker, one of Tsarmina's former captains before she had demoted them all in favor of Brogg. He realized that this fact may have saved the ferret from the woodlanders after the battle.

"If anybeast should lead this here crew, it's going to be me. You all know I were always fair and just. In fact," Raker raised his voice, "that crazy wildcat demoted me 'cause she knew I wouldn't sit still an' take all the abuse she was gonna give you lot!"

The big rat sneered back at him, leaned down and picked something up. Squinting, Whegg saw it was a large tree branch, shaped and shaved of leaves and twigs in a project that he guessed the rat had worked at for much of the night. Raker, Whegg and the rest of the vermin shifted backwards, almost unconsciously. In an army with no arms, the beast with a club was king.

Surprisingly, Raker did not back down. "Sheh, right! These are me mates, and they don't _know_ you. Yer just one of that fox's fighters, and look where he is now. I'm the only one here who knows how to command and tell everybeast what to do and how to behave like a real proper army, see!"

Some of the soldiers around him, despite the rat's threatening weapon and ferocious gaze, murmured agreement, assent or at least consideration. "He's right, lads!" barked a ferret called Ditchpaw. Bane's mercenaries hadn't been around long enough to assimilate completely into the rank and file of Tsarmina's army, and even before the premature demise of their vulpine leader they had never been especially popular. Though undoubtedly superior in fighting skill to any one of the armybeasts, Whegg could plainly see that they were currently far outnumbered by his own kind, and in a similar state of disorganization. Like the rest, without a leader they were nothing.

Whegg was quite anxious for the tension to break, lest the confrontation devolve into fighting. He felt the familiar heat of a question burbling up in the pit of his stomach. Unable to contain himself, he called out –

"—Well, how can we know who t'choose if we don't know where we're going?"

The former captain and the mercenary threw their perilous gazes over to him. Whegg cringed back from the attention, cursing his typical curiosity for getting him into trouble once again. Fortunately, the big rat took it as a chance to regain his momentum in the argument.

"Well, you 'eard the woodlanders, right, stupid? There's no going back east to Mossflower Woods, or north t' the lands of old Verdauga. Wouldn't want to go there anyhow," he stroked his chin thoughtfully, "on account o' all the other hordes and bands up there seein' us as a new threat. And all of you know that there's nothing west of here 'cept plains with nothin' on 'em, and further than that the Badger's Mountain and all its hares!" The army shivered at the last word. "No, south is the place to go. New lands, ripe for the pickin', eh mates? Who thinks they've got a better idea?"

The ferret Raker sniffed, but said nothing. It seemed, Whegg thought, that the group would be traveling south together, then. And then something caught the attention of the piecemeal horde. A lanky fox had moved, slowly and languorously, stretching and yawning, to his paws. This was another one of Bane's mercenaries, Whegg knew, for the only fox in Tsarmina's army had been Fortunata the healer. He leveled a contemptuous smirk at the big rat.

"Aye, Innulk, I actually was thinking something different." Raker the ferret captain bristled angrily at the sight of another challenger, and the rat, Innulk, gazed with undisguised hatred at the fox, who continued in a manner of speaking that seemed slightly foreign to Whegg's ears:

"You all may not know me well, but I came to join Bane's band not long before we arrived at Kotir. I come from someway west and further more still to the south, and anyhow I know that area good and well. I plan to head back there now, and anybeast who wishes is welcome to come with me. There are a few smart ones among you who chose so already," and he gestured towards six or seven vermin around him, who drew closer at his word. Whegg recognized among them an even larger fox, musclebound and dangerous-looking even without a weapon, the weasel Scratt, and a stoat tracker and forager named Smoketail.

"Oh, an' is that it?" Innulk asked sardonically. "Well then, if trekking back into th' woodlanders' territory sounds like a good idea, then feel free to join Faulney's liddle gang! I –" Faulney the fox cut him off.

"O, there are villages thataways, with plenty of treasure for the plunderin', for the land is richer than anything Tsarmina or Lord Verdauga could dream of still. An' yet," he lowered his voice, "beyond all that lies the God's Eye Mountains, from where I hail. There be riches beyond what any of you lot could dream of there, gold and jewels in tunnels and jutting right out of the mountainside. If ye're brave enough, join me and mine to go and take it!"

Faulney sat back down. The rat and the ferret stared at him for a second before bursting into laughter. The two eyed each other appraisingly and, turning their attention back to the fox, continued laughing harder still. The rest of the horde stayed quiet, and none spoke up further to challenge the pair or join Faulney's gang. "Go south-an'-west then," spat Raker, "any fools in search of mountains and gold. We start headin' south now, while the sun rises." He shot a glance at Innulk to confirm his assent, the two brought to an uneasy truce in their mutual derision of their challenger.

Faulney shrugged. "The fools are those who head off to where they don't know, expectin' to figure out then what it is they wish to find." He moved slowly upright once more, and his gang began to gather up their provisions. The rest of the horde did the same, and so the vermin decamped and readied themselves for the long march towards wherever their destinies would bring them.

Whegg paused for a minute, torn with indecision. Always, always, in the damp cots of Kotir's barracks he had dreamed the same simple dream all vermin do of wealth and ease. He glanced between the sly fox, and the large rat and the ferret officer. Whegg was not a particularly inspired rat, but all who are naturally curious are naturally observant, and he knew from his time serving under many masters in the army that those who shared command normally did not share it for long. Sooner or later, he figured, Innulk and Raker would figure out who was stronger and who had more support, and there would be blood and violence. If he knew it was coming, Whegg would always avoid that. So he found himself quietly edging over towards Faulney's gang. Four other vermin from the horde, either swayed by the fox's words or coming to the same conclusion, did the same.

Faulney the fox looked up, glanced over at five of them, and nodded.

* * *

And so it was that Whegg broke off from the Thousand Eye Army, if it really was that at all anymore, and fixed his fate to that of another.

End of Chapter 2.


End file.
